Роберт Харрис: Munich

Wilson, who was sitting on the other side of the Prime Minister, cut in. ‘I saw General Göring last night and he was confident the German Army would overrun the Czechs not in weeks but in days. “And Prague will be bombed to rubble” — those were his very words.’

There was a snort from Cadogan on the opposite side of the table. ‘It’s obviously in Göring’s interests to present the Czechs as a pushover. The fact remains the Czechs have a large army and strong defensive fortifications. They might well hold out for months.’

‘Except, as you’ve just heard, that’s not Colonel Mason-MacFarlane’s view.’

‘With respect, Horace, what does he know about it?’ Cadogan was a small, usually taciturn man. But Legat could see he was defending the prerogatives of the Foreign Office like a bantam cock.

‘With equal respect, Alec, he has actually been there, unlike the rest of us.’

The Prime Minister put down his pen. ‘Thank you very much for coming all the way from Berlin to see us, Colonel. It has been most useful. I know we all wish you a safe trip back to Germany.’

‘Thank you, Prime Minister.’

When the door had closed, Chamberlain said, ‘I asked Sir Horace to bring the colonel back to London with him and report to us directly because this seems to me a crucial point.’ He looked around the table. ‘Suppose the Czechs were to collapse before the end of October: how would we convince the British public the war was worth continuing through the winter? We would be asking them to make the most tremendous sacrifices — and to achieve what, precisely? We have already conceded that the Sudeten Germans should never have been transferred to a Czech-dominated state in the first place.’

Halifax said, ‘That is certainly the position of the Dominions. They have made it absolutely clear to us today that their people won’t stand for a war on such a narrow issue. America won’t come in. The Irish will be neutral. One does begin to wonder where we shall find any allies.’

Cadogan said, ‘There are always the Russians, of course. We keep forgetting they also have a treaty with the Czechs.’

A murmur of unease went round the table. The Prime Minister said, ‘The last time I looked at the map, Alec, there wasn’t a common border between the Soviet Union and Czechoslovakia. The only way they could intervene would be by invading either Poland or Romania. In that event they would both enter the war on the side of Germany. And really, even putting aside the facts of geography — to have Stalin, of all people, as our ally in a crusade to uphold international law! The notion is grotesque.’

Gort said, ‘The strategic nightmare is that this becomes a world war, and we end up having to fight Germany in Europe, Italy in the Mediterranean and Japan in the Far East. In that event, I have to say, in my view, the very existence of the Empire will be in grave jeopardy.’

Wilson said, ‘We are drifting into the most appalling mess, and it seems to me there is only one way out. I have drafted a telegram telling the Czechs that in our opinion they should accept Herr Hitler’s terms before his deadline of two o’clock tomorrow — withdraw from the Sudetenland and let him occupy the territory. It’s the only sure way for us to avoid being entangled in a war that could quickly grow to enormous proportions.’

Halifax said, ‘But what if they refuse?’

‘They won’t, in my judgement. And if they do, then at least the United Kingdom would no longer be under any moral obligation to get involved. We would have done our best.’

There was a silence.

The Prime Minister said, ‘It does at least have the merit of simplicity.’

Halifax and Cadogan exchanged glances. Both began to shake their heads — Halifax slowly, Cadogan with some vigour. ‘No, Prime Minister, that would make us effectively the Germans’ accomplices. Our standing in the world would collapse, and the Empire with it.’

‘And what about France?’ added Halifax. ‘We would put them in an intolerable position.’

Wilson said, ‘They should have thought about that before they gave a guarantee to Czechoslovakia without consulting us.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ Cadogan raised his voice. ‘This isn’t an industrial dispute, Horace. We can’t allow France to fight Germany alone.’

Wilson was unfazed. ‘But surely Lord Gort has just told us France has no intention of fighting? Apart from the odd raid, they will stay behind the Maginot Line until the summer.’

The service chiefs started talking all at once. Legat saw the Prime Minister glance over at the clock above the mantelpiece, then return his attention to his speech. Without his controlling authority, the meeting quickly disintegrated into a hubbub of separate conversations. One had to admire his powers of concentration. He was in his seventieth year, yet he kept on going, like the grandfather clock in the hall — tick, tick, tick...

Through the high windows the light had begun to fade. The time reached seven-thirty. Legat decided he ought to say something. ‘Prime Minister,’ he whispered, ‘I’m afraid the BBC will need to come in now to set up their equipment.’

Chamberlain nodded. He glanced around the table and said quietly, ‘Gentlemen?’ Immediately the voices fell silent. ‘I am afraid we shall have to leave matters there for now. The situation is obviously as grave as it could be. We now have less than twenty hours before the Germans’ ultimatum expires. Foreign Secretary, perhaps you and I could talk a little more about this question of a telegram to the Czech Government? Horace, we’ll go into your office. Alec, you’d better come too. Thank you all.’

Wilson’s office adjoined the Cabinet Room and was linked to it directly by its own door. Often, when the Prime Minister was working alone at the long coffin-shaped table, the door was left open so that Wilson could wander in and out at will. In the press, he was written up as Chamberlain’s Svengali but in Legat’s observation that was to underrate the PM’s dominance: Wilson was more like a supremely useful servant. He glided silently around Downing Street keeping an eye on the machinery of government in the manner of a store detective. Several times when he had been working at his own desk he had felt a presence and had turned to find Wilson quietly observing him from the doorway. His face would be expressionless at first; then would come that sly unnerving smile.

The BBC engineers unspooled cables across the carpet and set up the microphone at the far end of the Cabinet table close to the pillars. It was suspended from a metal stand: an object large and cylindrical, tapering to a point at the back, like the sawn-off end of an artillery shell. Beside it was a loudspeaker and various other mysterious pieces of equipment. Syers and Cleverly came in to watch. Syers said, ‘The BBC have asked if they can also make a live broadcast of the PM’s statement to Parliament tomorrow.’

Cleverly said, ‘That’s not a matter for us.’

‘I know. It would obviously set a precedent. I’ve referred them to the Chief Whip.’

At five minutes to eight, the Prime Minister emerged from Wilson’s office, followed by Halifax and Cadogan. Wilson was the last to appear. He looked irritated. Legat guessed he must have had a further argument with Cadogan. That was Wilson’s other great usefulness — to act as a surrogate for his chief. The Prime Minister could use him to test out ideas, and then could sit back and observe what happened without having to expose his own views and risk his authority.

Chamberlain took his seat behind the microphone and spread out his speech. His hands were shaking. One of the pages fell to the floor and he had to bend stiffly to retrieve it. He muttered, ‘I’m wobbling about all over the place.’ He asked for a glass of water. Legat poured one from the jug in the centre of the table. In his anxiety he over-filled it. Beads of water stood out on the polished surface.